


I Have No Missionary Zeal

by musicforswimming



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, Sex Magic, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-30
Updated: 2006-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is taken in by the Order. Ginny has some fun with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have No Missionary Zeal

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sarah Slean's "Playing Cards With Judas". Written pre-DH, and thus has since been jossed.

Ginny'd seen him crying when he first got found by the Order, during Christmas Break of her sixth year. Malfoy hadn't seen her, of course; one got to learn a few things about stealth growing up with six older brothers, didn't one? But she'd seen him, snot running down his nose and barely able to breathe, and while she supposed she ought have felt bad for him, she only went upstairs and laughed long and hard.

But then she'd started crying too, eventually (she still wasn't sure how; it just sort of came quite gradually from the laughing) so she guessed that was what the Muggles called karma.

Anyway, she'd come to visit him at Headquarters a few times since that first, usually when she was in London anyway, to see the Twins. Once she'd given him a Fanged Frisbee. Thought she'd die laughing that day.

Might've been a good opportunity for talking, and yeah, they did some of that. But neither of them were all that interested in it, and he'd not have known where to begin, anyhow, so she'd taken a bit of pity at last and just helped him do the one thing they could both manage.

He'd got leaner, harder. He was never really out of shape, but apparently time as a fugitive could do things for one's body in a way that Quidditch couldn't. Ginny wondered if there'd been much fighting, something else that would require him to get stronger, but she'd not asked him herself yet.

(The Order knew, presumably, but until she was of age she wouldn't. Though, she'd reflected a couple of times, if anyone besides the Order can get it out of him now, she can.)

"A few months on the run were good for you, you know," she said, and grinned when she felt his body stiffen beneath her. "You were quite spoiled before. Mummy's Little Darling, weren't you, pwecious ickle Dwaco?"

"You've got a mouth like those worthless twins, you know. Anyway, I was probably still eating more than you do at home, considering how far your Mum's got to stretch the food budget," he sneered after a moment, and Ginny could only laugh, because he talked like he were a big man, still, when everyone up to and including Voldemort knew him to be nothing like. She'd have been surprised he'd not managed to fit in a jab at Harry, except he couldn't, could he, since she'd kissed him. And, when he let her shove him up against the wall, she deepened it, ignoring the grunt he'd given as his head hit the brick round the fireplace.

They stayed like that for awhile, except for when his hands started to go under her shirt, which was when she caught them. If anything, he seemed to get even more into it then, as she was squeezing his wrists and forcing them back against the wall. "God, you're so _easy_, Malfoy." Ginny laughed as she said it, and he couldn't even contradict her, because he was already breathing hard. So was she, but not as much as him.

"I guess -- " he began, between kisses -- "I like -- " and he couldn't finish what she was sure would've been a really cutting insult, because she had kissed him harder this time. His tongue was in her mouth first, and she could hear him groaning a little.

She waited a little longer -- waited 'till he'd buried his fingers in her hair, loosening it from the bun she'd pulled it into and sending a few strands flying -- before she spoke again.

"You're just a regular slut, Draco, is what you are" she said. It was a whisper this time, kind of sweet-sounding except for the actual, y'know, _words_ of it.

He didn't say anything, just groaned. He actually _groaned_, like people did always did in books and things -- like _girls_ always did in books and things, but here she felt just alert, sharp, like everything was just a little more in focus than usual. More than anything, that was what made her feel slick down there, and warm. She didn't care much what he liked, but she knew she liked that.

_Tactimordeo_, she thought, and felt a warmth at her fingertips as the spell flashed. She heard his breath hitch as the sting spread through his skin from her fingers, and laughed into his mouth, not letting him pull away from her.

"You're really pretty like this, Draco," she whispered, noting the red spots on his wrists as she shifted her hands slightly, pinning his fully against the wall.

He didn't say anything. In fairness to him, she'd kissed him again, sliding her knee between his legs and making gentle contact with the hardness to be found there. But when she stopped kissing him, and rested her forehead against his, he kept his eyes closed, breathing hard.

She did the spell again, and grinned, because here, for once, were all the strings in her hands.


End file.
